You go with your two feet bare.
Down through the cold lane there, to Brighton.
A country house, a liar and a louse live there.

Go with your arms held wide.
Happiness in your eyes, convincing.
And stay the night. Turn out every light you see.
And lay them down buried in the ground for me.

Whoa my love, whoa my love,
Whoa my love, whoa my love,
Whoa...

Tongues of the creatures wait.
Drawn to the fragile legs you walk on.
A cold wind blows, Brighton to the coast from me.
The cold wind blows, Brighton to the coast from me.

Whoa my love, oh my love,
Whoa my love, oh my love,
Whoa my love, oh my love,
Whoa my love, oh my love,
Oh...